


We're Not Perfect (But That's Okay)

by Incadence



Series: Dreams [1]
Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-03-01 11:19:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2771093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incadence/pseuds/Incadence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, you just have to accept that the love of your life is not your soul mate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We're Not Perfect (But That's Okay)

**Author's Note:**

> Could easily have dragged to 10k, but i'm lazy eue. edit: edited this, there were some glaring and terrible mistakes i'm so sorry.

Taehyung’s always been able to see them.

As a child, he’ll trace the smooth curve of his mother’s finger and grasp at his father’s hands, pressing them together with his stubby hands, lips jutting out into a small pout. “Mummy?” He’ll ask, blinking up at her with wide eyes. “Why aren’t they connected?” She’ll smile then, and brush a soft hand through his hair.

“What do you mean darling?” She’ll say gently.

“They’re not connected!” Taehyung huffs, waving his parents hands around wildly. His dad would give a wide grin, extracting his hand from Taehyung's small grip, and with a gentle pat on his head he would say.

“That’s just the way it is, kid.”

They never understood why his eyes would well up in tears then, and he’ll start to cry, not the wide loud wailing of a child craving attention. No, it’s quiet, barely audible and so sad.

“Darling.” His mother would gasp, holding him to his chest. “What’s wrong Tae? Baby, don’t cry.” She’ll coo, rocking him in her embrace. What’s wrong with him? She’ll mouth. But his father would just shrug his shoulders with a shake of his head.

“Children.” He’ll say to her later, after Taehyung had fallen asleep. “Their imaginations run wild.”

But it wasn’t his imagination, because he could still see them, years later. Taehyung had just learnt to keep his mouth shut. But they were real. He knew they were.

If you asked him to describe them, he wouldn’t know how to really. Sometimes they’re bright red, a blaring splash of colour; other times a dreary grey, a soft blue or a sickly yellow. They entwine themselves around people’s wrists, circling down to their palms, like strings, trailing into places Taehyung can’t follow.

Taehyung didn’t understand then. But once, when he was small, he saw two strings that were connected, twining together in a breathtaking splash of colour. Taehyung had stopped in his tracks and stared and stared, mesmerized, watching as they walked off.

That night, Taehyung tugged at his own, watching as it twined around his finger, eyes following the tendril of colour as it faded into darkness. His little heart, so determined to find the end, to find the one his connected to.

Taehyung was five when he saw a man with a broken one. It was limp, dull and trailed off behind him as he walked. He started crying right on the spot, loud and furious tears dripping down his chubby cheeks and falling to the floor. The man had ignored him at first, continued walking, as his mum tried to wipe the tears away and press comforting pats to his head. But Taehyung shook her off, and ran towards the man grabbing his sleeve and tugging. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry sir!” Taehyung gasped, tears dribbling down in a wet mess.

“It’s okay. It’s okay!” The man had cooed, but Taehyung kept crying, even after his mother dragged him away with a string of apologies.

But as he grew older, he saw more of them. Broken strings, some frayed like someone had torn them off, others clean cut like someone had snipped them, some completely unraveled. Taehyung stopped crying every time he saw them, but they still left this disgusting, heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. It wasn’t right.

And what disgusted him even more was that people were happy, even when they were broken like that. Your other half is gone. How could you be happy, when you are so alone? So lost?

But Taehyung had always been able to see more. And really, ignorance was bliss.

But it wasn’t long before Taehyung realized that those that had beautiful intertwined strings were rarer than the broken one’s. Finding your other half was harder, and when you stopped trying, stopped wanting that perfect match. Your string falls,breaks off, because it doesn’t try anymore.

When Taehyung was a little older, and his friends had dragged him to the darker places of town, thick with bars and dancers and people huddled in alleyways. Taehyung had seen so many frayed strings, unraveled into a mess of nothing. It made his chest hurt, throat constrict. They weren't searching anymore. They’ve lost it.

Taehyung told himself that would never happen to him; he never lost hope that he’ll find his other half. To see the beautiful way they would entwine.

That never does happen though. Taehyung was not one of the lucky ones.                 

At eighteen, Taehyung wakes up, and his string is cut, lying limp across his bed sheet.

He may not have given up, but his other half has.

The first thing Taehyung does is rush to his bathroom, dry retching into the toilet, white and red blinding his vision, making everything spin and twist. Tears drop, thick fat droplets of it, they begin to stream down his hands when he reaches up to cup his face, grasping at his eyelids.

Taehyung hates himself. Hates how he can see. Hates that he knows. He’s lost. He’s alone. He doesn’t know what to do.

He lies on the bathroom floor and closes his eyes.

The next few months are a blurry haze. There’s sex, lots of it. Sometimes if he scrunches his eyes shut hard enough, he can pretend that the pleasure that clouds his mind is enough to be love, to fill that completely empty void that Taehyun desired to be filled.

It’s not enough though.

Because the more he fucked, the emptier he felt.                                                             

Taehyung wishes he could drown. Just fall into this whirlwind of sex and alcohol and pleasure and loneliness.

He doesn’t though. Because his friends actually care about him, and they listen to him cry, listen to him spout things they don’t understand, and surprisingly they stay, and slowly drag him out of the wet mess he’s fallen into.

It still hurts though. It never does stop hurting.

But he gets his shit together, gets a job at his friends bubble tea shop, and for a while, he’s okay. Not happy. But okay.

And then one day he meets Hoseok.

Hoseok doesn’t exactly make a lasting first impression; he comes in, buys a drink, and gives Taehyung a small smile and is gone. Taehyung thinks he has a nice smile, and tries to ignore the beautiful blue of his string, and how it’s still attached. That’s all though, and he blurs in with the other customers that come and go.

But then he comes again, and again, and again, until he’s this constant fixture in the bubble tea shop, sipping his regular brown rice milk tea with pearls, accompanied with that eye crinkling grin.

“Why do you think he keeps coming? Our bubble tea isn’t that good.”  Taehyung huffs as Hoseok gives him a soft wave.

Jimin slaps Taehyung's back lightly. “Hey, my bubble tea is fantastic!” Taehyung swats him away.

Yoongi merely gives Taehyung this unreadable look and they never do answer his question. It doesn’t take long for Taehyung to figure it out anyway.

Hoseok is nice, he really is. He has certain softness to him that many people lack, and really Taehyung quite likes his company, his lame jokes, and how bright he always is, even on grey dreary mornings. (There’s sometimes a certain edge to his smile that Taehyung ignores though. But he understands that no one can be happy all the time.)

He becomes a friend of sorts.

Taehyung doesn’t know much about Hoseok, except for little inklings of his life that Hoseok slips in between his wide grins. Taehyung doesn’t tell Hoseok anything about himself, dodging all the questions he asks. But Hoseok doesn’t seem to mind, filling the gaps of their conversation with his own jokes and quips.

Their only interactions are short bouts of conversation, in the morning or afternoon, or whenever Hoseok drops by, which is really quite regularly. Taehyung's behind the bubble tea counter, Hoseok waving his brown rice bubble tea wildly as he talks about his co-workers, or the weather or anything really. Taehyung likes his voice, likes talking to him. And his chest always gives a happy leap when he sees that familiar brown tuft of hair duck into the shop. It’s easy to like Hoseok.

Sometimes in between Hoseok’s hand movements, and his stream of words, Taehyung wonders, just briefly what it would be like to love someone like Hoseok. But then as Hoseok waves his hand as he leaves, his eye catches on the beautiful blue of Hoseok’s string, leading to a place that is not Taehyung; that is nowhere near Taehyung. And he gets that disgusting heavy feeling against his chest.

Because Hoseok has someone special, has someone he deserves, has someone that is perfect for him. While Taehyung is just Taehyung. The cursed boy with eyes that see too much.

So Taehyung ignores Jimin’s teasing remarks, and Yoongi’s knowing look that he sends him every time Hoseok walks through the door. It’s a bit harder to ignore Hoseok’s cute attempts at flirting, even harder to ignore some of his blatantly lame pick up lines. But Taehyung does it anyway, and he treads their friendship with feather light steps. Because Hoseok is attractive, Hoseok is nice; Hoseok is everything Taehyung might have wanted. But Hoseok isn’t Taehyung's, and Taehyung wishes, wishes with every single inch of his body, that he didn’t have to know that. But he does.

They stay as friends, or if you could even call them that. And Taehyung's okay with that, he really is. 

But things don’t exactly go to plan.

One Tuesday morning, Hoseok strolls through the door, umbrella in hand, droplets of water dripping from his hair. It’s raining outside, a pitiful dreary downpour, but when Hoseok walks in; his smile is still brighter than anything, leaving Taehyung a little breathless. He rests his elbows on the counter, and his grin widens when Taehyung gives him a slight wave.

“The usual?” Taehyung asks. Hoseok seems to contemplate that for a second which is weird because Hoseok never gets anything other than brown rice.

“I’m thinking something new.” Hoseok grins. Taehyung's eyes widen almost comically, because that is just unheard of.  “Say… What bubble tea do you like hmm?” And, okay Taehyung is not expecting that, and subtly kicks Jimin in the shin when he starts sniggering.

“I…” Taehyung starts. “I don’t like bubble tea.” He lies. Hoseok doesn’t look like he believes him.

“Then what about coffee?” Hoseok replies, and holy shit, when did he get so smooth?

Taehyung freezes, looking up at Hoseok, eyes wide. Hoseok’s eyes are fixed on him, determination completely written all over his face, and really it’s endearingly adorable. But then Taehyung's gaze inevitably trail down to his fingers, and that glaring blue string that will never meet Taehyung's hands. Hoseok doesn’t belong to him. He should say no. He’s only going to hurt himself, tasting something sweet that’s only going to be torn away.

Taehyung's vision blurs, and in a bout of selfishness, he says. “I could do coffee.”

Hoseok was meant to be for pleasure, Taehyung had hoped that he could fuck him, get it out of his system and it’ll be over. It wasn’t the best, but it would hurt less.

But they don’t have sex on the first date. They talk, Hoseok giving him that crinkling eye smile past the rim of the coffee cup, and his hand is warm when Taehyung walks him home. When Hoseok brushes his lips against his, Taehyung finds that his lips are soft and warm against his, and Taehyung wonders how someone could taste so sweet. Hoseok doesn’t invite Taehyung to come in, and Taehyung doesn’t ask. If a chaste kiss could send his heartbeat fluttering, he wonders what effect those lips would have when they’re on his body.

He’s smiling when he takes a cab home, but that night the broken red of his string taunts him and he pretends to not notice the heavy lump in his throat and the tears that prick his eyes. What he’s doing is wrong, but Taehyung is selfish.                            

The second date is nice, Taehyung finds that Hoseok’s hugs are warm, and loves the soft lingering smell of Hoseok on his skin after the night is over. He tells himself that date will be the last. But when he receives a text attached with a picture of an adorably happy Hoseok, he can’t bring himself to reject him. The third date is when they kiss properly, Hoseok’s hands are warm against Taehyun’s cheek, and when they kiss, Hoseok opens his mouth and Taehyung completely melts, molding himself against Hoseok’s arms.

When Hoseok leans back, his hand still cupped around his cheek, he gives Taehyung this breathless, blinding smile. And for a second Taehyung is happy, so breathlessly, selfishly happy. But then, like he sees every day, the soft blue of Hoseok’s string, entwined around his wrist and trailing down to his fingers. He’s reminded again, the reminder that leaves a putrid, bitter taste in his mouth.

Hoseok has someone perfect for him, and Taehyung, he doesn’t deserve someone like Hoseok. Hoseok deserves so much more.

And Taehyung can feel it, every time Hoseok wraps a hand around his, pressing small kisses against his skin, gives him that warm smile.  It feels like someone is tightening a rope around his neck, tighter and tighter until he’s almost suffocating. And even though he has scissors in his hand, he doesn’t cut it, because the person tightening the rope is so beautiful, and if it means staring just a little longer, Taehyung would gladly hurt a little more.

Taehyung should cut it. The more he stares, the more it hurts. He’s breathless already.

They have sex on the sixth date, but it’s more like making love than anything. It’s soft, and gentle, and Taehyung hates the way Hoseok looks at him. Warm and loving, like Taehyung is everything. But he’s not, he’s nowhere near.

The heat they create translates to something akin to love. Taehyung wishes he could look away, but he can’t. Pleasure was startlingly beautiful on Hoseok, the way his lips, red and swollen shape into moans, and the soft milky curve of his neck, the beautiful lines of his body, that Taehyung gets to hold, gets to mark as his own.

And when Hoseok intertwines their fingers as he thrusts into him, Taehyung see’s their strings, one red one blue, one whole, one broken. And for exactly two seconds, Taehyung doesn’t care at all.

Though, reality, that disgusting taste at the back of Taehyung's mouth hits.

In the morning, Taehyung stumbles into the bathroom, and there aren’t any tears. But when Taehyung looks in the mirror, he finds that he looks so pitiful and so fragile. Being with Hoseok, is slowly breaking him, and he vows to not fall in love, and when he’s strong enough, he’s going to leave.

But Taehyung's never been that strong. And with Hoseok there, willing, responding to his touches and kisses. Taehyung can’t let go.

And sometimes, he can’t help but hate Hoseok.

He hates everything. The little trails of him he’s left in his life, a toothbrush there, a bruising mark under his collarbone, a scarf slung at the back of his closet, the texts, the pictures, the wilting flowers at his bedside. He hates the way he smiles, the way he talks, the way he texts, the way he holds Taehyung like he’s something precious.

 “This isn’t love.” Taehyung lies to himself, running a gentle hand through Hoseok’s hair. “I don’t love you.”

“I love you.” Hoseok says, one month and twenty one days later, the words a mere whisper against Taehyung's skin. Taehyung pretends he’s asleep, hands tightening against the bed sheets, tears pricking the edges of his eyes.

 The rope tightens; it’s so tight around his neck that Taehyung can feel the way it cuts into his skin. It hurts.

Another month passes, two and then three.

Taehyung wishes he could get bored of Hoseok. He wishes he could hate him. Anything but this.

Because when he looks at Hoseok, he gives Taehyung this dangerous thought that maybe Taehyun is special, that he matters, that maybe he deserves to be loved. He gives Taehyung hope, which is more dangerous than anything.

And then finally, inevitably, Taehyung cracks.

“We have to break up.” Taehyung gasps, he wishes he had turned away, because then he sees Hoseok’s face crumble, shattering and breaking right in front of him.

“Tae.” He feels fingers grasping his sleeve, he flinches. “It’s okay, I won’t… I won’t stop you.” And Taehyung hates that Hoseok is still so nice, still so kind and gentle, and beautiful. “But, please. Please just tell me why.” There are tears in his eyes, and Taehyung wonders why someone like Hoseok would shed tears for him.

He wants to lie, spout hurtful things that would make Hoseok’s face contort in anger, so that he’ll never look at Taehyung the same, never love him again and yes it’ll hurt, more than anything. But Hoseok would be happy, because there’s someone out there who is better. Someone who isn’t Taehyung.

But Taehyung's always been selfish, and he hates himself for it. So, he tells the truth. “I’m not right for you Hoseok.” He tries to sound firm, strong, but the words quiver against his tongue. They sound so incredibly vulnerable.

There’s anger now, and even that is beautiful on Hoseok’s face. “Don’t give me that it’s not you, it’s me crap.” Hoseok hisses, he steps closer, Taehyung turns away. “Look at me, please.” Hoseok says, and it’s so gentle, so sad.

“I’m sorry.” Taehyungsays softly.

“I don’t understand.” There’s the sound of tears in Hoseok’s voice. “Did I do something wrong…?”

Taehyung shakes his head, still refusing to look at him. “It’s not me. It’s not ever going to me.” Taehyungturns to Hoseok with a small smile. “You deserve so much better.”

“What are you talking about?” Hoseok snaps. Its desperation, and anger and confusion all in one sentence. Taehyung feels hands grasp his. “What if it’s you Taehyung? And hell, maybe it’s not but I… I love you, and sometimes I think maybe you do too.” Hoseok’s fingers tremble against his. 

“Don’t.” Taehyungbreathes and he huffs a bitter laugh. “Don’t say shit like that, because you don’t understand.”

“Try me.” Hoseok bites.

Taehyung wants to lie. But then he sees the way Hoseok's looking at him, so determined, so trusting, so open. He hesitates. He tells Hoseok everything.

He expects Hoseok to run, to call him crazy, and to finally leave him, licking the wounds Hoseok left with his lips.

But, he doesn’t.

He’s skeptical, but he trusts Taehyung. It’s almost scary how determined he is to trust Taehyung.

“Don’t you think I’m crazy?” Taehyung gasps. Hoseok gives him this unreadable look, like he’s searching Taehyung's face for something.

“You’re talking about soul mates right?” Hoseok says hesitantly, his hand still wrapped around Taehyung's limp fingers.

“Maybe.” He stares down at their hands, eyes hardening at the strings that circle their wrists. “You should go find yours, before it’s too late.” He murmurs. It doesn't hurt as much anymore. He’s hollow.

“Tae.” He feels gentle fingers grasp at his chin, turning them towards Hoseok. “Do you… Do you love me?” His words are soft, but they cut almost as deep as Taehyung's guilt.

Taehyung gives a bitter laugh. “Why? Why do you have to ask questions like that?”

“I’m sorry.” Hoseok whispers, his hands loosen against Taehyung's.

There’s silence, thick and suffocating silence. Taehyung wonders why Hoseok doesn’t leave. But his hands tighten against Taehyung's palms, and it takes him a while to figure out that he’s waiting. Waiting for the question to be answered.

“Too much.” Taehyungfinally whispers, like the words are a dirty secret on his lips. Hoseok head snaps up, and he feels his piercing gaze cut his skin. “I love you too much, and I hate myself for it.”

He feels Hoseok tremble, and when he turns to look at him, what he doesn’t expect to see is happiness. So blindingly bright, the wide eyed adoring smile, that Taehyung had come to regrettably love.

“It doesn’t matter.” Hoseok says, eyes crinkling.

“What are you talking about?” Taehyung snaps.

Hoseok’s smile widens.  “What you see, what you think we are, if we’re meant to be or not. None of that matters. But right now, I’m sure that I love you. “ He pauses, and Taehyung can’t look away. “And maybe that might change in the future. But we don’t know that.” Hoseok’s fingers tremble, but his smile never wavers. “So please, don’t leave me.”

Taehyung's breath hitches,

He never does understand. How Hoseok’s hands hold Taehyung's, shaking, like he’s terrified he’s going to lose him. Why did he care? Why did he even care to love someone like Taehyung? Taehyung doesn’t understand what Hoseok ever saw him, because when he looks in a mirror, all he sees is a boy, so pitiful and so lonely. So unlovable and so flawed. But Hoseok is looking at Taehyung like he’s the most beautiful thing in the world.   

“It’s not that simple.” Taehyung sighs. Because it isn’t. He remembers his parents, the loving words they shared, and the cruel ones that came later, harsh and biting, and the bruises that littered his father’s neck, the exact shape of his mother’s fingerprints.    

“It could be.” Hoseok’s eyes shine with tears when he smiles and brings a shaking hand to cup Taehyung's cheek. Taehyung selfishly leans into the touch, eyes slipping shut.

Simplicity was beautiful.

But loving Hoseok has never been simple.

-                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               

They’re not perfect. Love is not always sweet.

 

They fight.

There are times that Taehyung has seen Hoseok’s face contort into something so cruel and terrifying, and the words he screams are angry and confronting and cut straight to bone, leaving Taehyung bloody and broken. There are times when Taehyung opens his mouth and what comes out is unbelievably dark and ugly. And the way Hoseok’s face breaks, haunt him for days.

He’s reminded again how much of a failure he is. How much Hoseok deserves so much more.

But Hoseok doesn’t let him leave. No matter how many scars they leave on each other.

One year. Two. Three.

Taehyung finds that he can’t leave even if he wants to. Even though Hoseok was never meant for Taehyung, he has intertwined himself into his life, molding against Taehyung like two puzzle pieces that don’t fit, but are trying so hard to.

It’s the fourth year when it happens.

It’s 6; 23am, the beginnings of sunlight are slanting through the curtains, waking Taehyung. He’s still soft and a little sleepy, and dazedly turns to press a soft kiss to Hoseok’s jaw. Hoseok gives a contented murmur, hand reaching to cup Taehyung's cheek. That’s when he sees it.

Taehyung pales.

Hoseok’s string is frayed, unraveled, like someone had roughly torn it off.

Taehyung pushes Hoseok away and rushes to the bathroom, curled over the toilet, choking on tears. There is red blinding his vision and something ugly and heavy grasping at his throat. It’s guilt, so much guilt.

“Taehyung.” He hears Hoseok approach him, and Taehyung can’t even bear to look at him. “Hey.” He sounds concerned. “Babe, are you okay?”

“No,no, no, no.” Taehyung gasps, with each heavy heave of his chest.  

“Tae.” Hoseok sounds terrified, hands grasp his face and Taehyung sees it again. He whips his face away harshly.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Taehyung whimpers, skin stretched white over his knuckles. “I’m so sorry.”

“Tell me what’s wrong.” Hoseok trembles. ‘Please Tae, please. I can help.”

“I should have let you go. I should have. I’m so fucking selfish. I’m too weak. I’m such a-“

“Stop, I beg you. Taehyung, Stop.” Why is Hoseok crying?

“Why.” Taehyung whispers, when Hoseok weakly grasps at his sleeve. “Why would you give up?”

“Taehyung?”  Hoseok blinks up at him through his tears.

“You deserve it; you deserve it more than anyone. You deserve to find them. Why would you?” Taehyung fingers scrape harshly against the floor.

Realization hits and Hoseok gives this small, shaky laugh. “Don’t you understand?” He breathes.

Taehyung turns his head slowly to stare at him.

“I choose you.” Fingers curl against his wrists, Hoseok smiles.

“No. No. No.”  Taehyung gasps, hunching over the toilet, gasping and retching. “You don’t understand what you've done.”

Taehyung is a mess.

It’s even worse than the first time.

There’s no sex this time. Just guilt, so much guilt that Taehyung can barely walk, barely stand, barely breathe. So he stays in bed, hands grasping the sheets, and cries and cries until he’s so hollow and there are no more tears to shed.

It’s a week before Taehyung can even look at Hoseok. Two before Hoseok can even touch Taehyung. It’s the third week when Taehyung doesn’t push Hoseok away when he crawls into bed, and curls his arms around him, holding him close, lips ghosting his hair.

“I love you.” Hoseok murmurs, over and over again. “I love you and I choose you.”

It’s the fourth week when Taehyung finally talks.

“I love you and I choose you.”

“You shouldn’t.” Taehyung rasps, and pretends to not notice the way Hoseok completely shatters against him, arms trembling, lips shivering against his neck. He wonders if Hoseok would leave. Nobody can love something that’s this completely broken.

But Hoseok waits.

“I love you.”  
It’s a month when Taehyung finally gets out of bed. He eats breakfast.

“I choose you.”

It’s three when Taehyung finally kisses Hoseok properly.

“I love you and I choose you.”

Its five months when Taehyung can interlock their fingers without flinching. He lets Hoseok press kisses to his knuckles.

Its five months and 4 days when Taehyung says I love you back.

At one year, Taehyung is smiling widely, and he doesn’t tremble, not at all, when Hoseok slips the ring on his finger. He gazes at their hands, the rings that shine on them and their strings, one blue, one red and both so broken.

Taehyung finds it kind of beautiful.

They say their vows, and when Hoseok leans in for the kiss he gives Taehyung that familiar eye crinkling grin and says. “I choose you.”

And when they're old and wrinkled, and they gingerly interlock their fingers. Taehyung watches as their strings limp, leading to nowhere.

And he can’t help but think that maybe, they were always meant to be.

 


End file.
